


The Proposal

by sunflowermoonshine



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Gap Filler, It's the proposal scene but different, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Shameless Season 10, does this count as a fix it fic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22230025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowermoonshine/pseuds/sunflowermoonshine
Summary: Gap fillers/re-imaginging of the 10x10 proposal scene.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 3
Kudos: 97





	The Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written anything before and I'm somewhat new to Shameless, so please don't @ me if this sucks lol. I just felt like the proposal scene needed more.

Mickey stood, leaning against the pillar of the dimly lit bar, already uncomfortable at the entire situation he has found himself in. He glanced back at Byron, who had his back to Mickey, engaged in some political conversation with one of his friends. Mickey really wasn’t expecting to follow this guy around for as long as he did. And he sure as shit didn’t expect to be at some overpriced bar listening to weird sad hipster bullshit. If Ian hadn’t come by earlier that day, Mickey would have bailed on this whole outing as soon as he could.

Taking a drink of his beer, Mickey tried to ignore the feeling of anticipation in his chest. As he looked at the door for the third time, silently telling himself that he wasn’t checking for Ian, he felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin. He started to turn back to Byron, maybe he could at least pretend to listen to whatever conversation was going on when he did a double take. Mickey’s eyebrow raised as some flamboyant prick struts into the bar. He would have rolled his eyes if it weren’t for the fact that he immediately clocked the lanky fucking ginger hobbling close behind. 

Mickey tried his best to tamper his shit eating grin. He took another swig of his beer, trying to keep the smirk off his face. He watched as Ian glanced around with a forced smile on his face, finally turning to make eye contact with Mickey.

“What the fuck is that?” Mickey scoffed loosely point towards the direction of Ian’s date.

“This is Cole,” Ian said, forcing another smile as he turned back to look at Cole, “He’s my date.”

“Uh-huh.” Mickey nodded, trying not to outright laugh, “What is he doing?”

Ian looked back at Cole, raising an eyebrow at Cole’s choice to start twerking at the bar, “He’s getting us drinks.”

Mickey made a strangled noise, almost like swallowing a laugh with a beer, “Okay. Have fun with that.” Mickey brushed past Ian, briefly making eye contact with smug smile. Mickey knew this game was over as soon as he saw Cole walk into the bar—Ian and Mickey were leaving together. The game now was to see which one could push the other to finally admit that the act was over. 

Mickey walked over to Byron, making a show to sling his arm over the smaller man’s shoulder. Byron visibly stiffened and slowly shrugged out of Mickey’s embrace. Offering a forced smile, Byron quickly says, “Mickey, honey, why don’t you go to the bar to get me another drink. I’ll be over in a minute.”

“Whatever,” Mickey wanders over to the bar. He knows that Byron can’t fucking stand him either, but he was hoping he could drag out their fake relationship for the rest of the night. Trying to make Ian jealous was at least some semblance of entertainment in this nightmare he found himself in lately.

Standing at the bar, the dark-haired man watched as Ian engaged in a forced conversation with Cole. Mickey didn’t know how to feel about that bullshit relationship either, but this entire show of dating other people has been so exhausting. Mickey was tired. He was tired of feeling like Ian might bail at any second, tired of not feeling good enough, tired of pretending like this whole… performance… would end in any other way but Ian and Mickey getting back together. 

After several songs, it slowly became clear that Byron was never going to come over to the bar. Mickey sighed, figuring he should at least bring the guy the drink he asked for. Walking up behind Byron, he paused for a second realizing the conversation he just walked into.

“I hooked up with him once and he moved in!” Byron sighs, clearly unaware that Mickey is right behind him.

Shame and embarrassment washed over Mickey. He knew he drug kid into his domestic dispute unwillingly, but he still didn’t want to listen about how much of a fuck up he is. 

“I didn’t have a choice! He won’t go.” Byron scoffed.

Setting down Byron’s drink on an empty table, Mickey went to move away from the conversation when he locked eyes with Ian, limping up beside him. It’s clear from Ian’s face, that he has also overheard the conversation.

“I was hoping since I got his ex here, he would take him off my hands. Please god!” Byron sighs. Mickey is looking pointedly at the ground, but he can feel Ian’s eyes boring into the side of his head. Mickey knows that the ginger is expecting him to fight Byron or something, but he can’t even bring himself to care enough to defend himself. Mickey knows his whole act recently has been forced, but it still hurts to be called on it.

“So, no, he’s not my boyfriend” Byron outright laughs. His group of friends laughing along with him, “He’s dumb, he’s rude, he’s politically ignorant, he’s violent, he’s socially inept. I don’t even think he can read! And he is WAY too aggressive in bed—and not in a good way.”

Well.. he isn’t completely wrong; Mickey thinks to himself as he glanced up at Ian. Oh. He can tell Ian is pissed. Ian is white knuckling his crutches, slowly moving towards Byron. 

“Alright,” Ian forces out, briefly making eye contact with Mickey before turning back to Byron, “You’ve convinced me. I’ll take him off your hands” 

Byron slowly turned around, realization washing over his face as he clocks Ian and Mickey standing next to each other. Ian moved so close to Byron; he was now towering over the shorter man. 

“Is this, uh, what you do when you don’t like somebody?” Ian asks, “Bash them behind their backs? Get a good laugh at their expense with your fucking friends? Try to pawn him off on some other guy?” Ian was practically snarling out the words at this point. Byron glanced over at Mickey, who quickly looked back to the ground. Mickey was still trying to tamp down the feelings of shame and lack of self-worth that has been sitting in the pit of his stomach since this whole incident started.

“I..” Byron stuttered out, trying to choose his words carefully, “Uh, I didn’t.. I didn’t mean—"

“Byron,” Ian moved to pat the small man on his shoulder, grinning forcefully, “Byron, come on. I know exactly what you meant.” His grip on Byron’s shoulder tightened as he looked back at Mickey. Mickey was still trying to maintain a neutral expression, averting Ian’s gaze by staring intently at his beer bottle—slowly trying to peel the label off of it.

“Unfortunately for you,” Ian sighs, standing up on his limp foot and moving his crutches into one hand, “I’m not the kind of guy who lets someone talk shit about the man he loves.” He pushes the crutches into Byron’s hands, who gives him a puzzled look. Ian holds back onto Byron’s shoulder, making sure his grip is tight enough to hurt a little bit.

“In fact,” Ian starts, his voice growing louder and drawing the attention of the nearby bar patrons, “I just want everyone here to know, that Mickey fucking Milkovich is the best god damn thing in this bar. All of you and your fucking pretentious ass hipster bullshit. What the fuck do any of you know? Mickey is smart and selfless and loving.” Ian pauses after each word, trying to emphasize his point, “And yeah, he is also a shit-talking, bitch-slapping, piece of Southside trash.” Ian was yelling now, glancing at Mickey who was just staring at him wide eyed.

“But you know what, Byron,” Ian turns back to Byron, “you will never be good enough to be Mickey’s fucking boyfriend.” With that Mickey watched as Ian punches Byron. It’s a square shot to the face. Byron goes down quickly and Ian follows him to the ground, hoping to get a few more punches in, but Byron’s friends are already pushing him away. Ian turned, his fist connecting with one of the men trying to protect Byron. Ian went to grab the guy’s arm.

Mickey knows he needs to stop this, he is going to lose his fucking mind if Ian goes back to prison for violating his parole, “Hey.” Mickey forces out, worried he is going to have to drag Ian out of this bar.

Ian gets one final punch in before he looks up at Mickey. Mickey stares back at Ian, expression softening. Mickey feels… love, he guesses,… well up in his chest. Mickey watched as Ian sits back on his good leg, panting slightly. Mickey tried to ignore the number of eyes that were on him right now, wanting to shrink away from Ian’s declaration and how… public… it all was.

“I love you, Mickey Milkovich,” Ian starts. Mickey’s eyes widen, breath catching in his throat. He already can’t handle people looking at him and now Ian is going to fucking propose?

“More than anything,” Ian continues, “And if you’d let me, I’d like to spend the rest—”

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey blurts out, trying to avoid eye contact with Ian or any other patron at this bar, “Save the fucking speech you pussy.” 

Mickey looked back at Ian, who was still on the floor looking at him expectantly. Mickey took a deep breath, “I’ll marry you.” Mickey can hear Ian audibly sigh, “Of course, I’ll fucking marry you.”

Ian’s smile lights a fire in Mickey’s chest. Struggling to stand up on one leg, Mickey moves to help him up. 

“Come here,” Ian breaths, grabbing the back of Mickey’s head and pulling him into a crushing kiss. Mickey briefly melts into the kiss, reveling in how right it felt to kiss Ian again. 

“Come on,” Mickey murmurs as he pulled away, “we should probably go.” Mickey wrapped his arm around Ian, moving to help him limp out of the bar. 

“Wait,” Ian hesitated “I need my crutches.”

Mickey sighed. Letting go of Ian, he turned back towards Byron, who was still on the floor, “Excuse me, just uh.. need to grab these,” Mickey mutters, bending down to pick Ian’s crutches off the floor. “You, uh, should probably ice that black eye, man.” Mickey states, giving Byron a gentle slap on the back of his shoulder before turning back his fiancé.

Together, the boys passed Cole who was deeply engaged in a conversation with one of the bartenders, seemingly oblivious to the entire events that transpired.

“Don’t you need to say goodbye to your date?” Mickey smiled, sarcasm dripping off his tongue.

“Fuck off,” Ian laughed.


End file.
